Dirty Deeds: A Nightmare in Five Parts
by SomebodyIUseToKnow
Summary: They defeated Nero; saved the earth. During the trek back to Earth on the crippled Enterprise, the Command Crew has grown closer, more like the family they are meant to be. But will it be enough to prevent one of their own from being swallowed up by the nightmares of the past.
1. Part I

_**PART I**_

* * *

**Stardate 2258.56**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco**

7 days.

Give or take a few hours – he was sure the hobgoblin could calculate it down to the millisecond – it took seven days for the broken and battered Enterprise to make its way back to Earth.

But they made it back.

Doctor Leonard McCoy didn't leave the Medbay once in that time. With Puri dead at the start of the mess, McCoy had been the only licences physician onboard. He had three residents of various years, and a dozen capable nurses, but only M'Benga even came close to being proficient at managing the wounded when McCoy took his breaks. And that was to say nothing about monitoring Captain Pike's condition.

So, McCoy never left.

He caught naps on the cot in the CMO's – his office, and had his meals brought up from the mess. His nurses and the residents brought the wounded to him, if those in question couldn't bring themselves. And with repairs going on around the clock there was injured crewmembers coming into the medbay at all hours.

He saw Jim once, briefly, when the Acting Captain had shown up to check on Pike's prognosis hours after everything had been said and done. Jim had barely allowed Bones to point a tricorder at him, only to have Jim's self-diagnosis confirmed. Bruised and cracked ribs, a broken hand, fractured fingers, all untreatable with the osteogenic stimulator non-functioning; multiple contusions and heavy bruising across his back, muscle and tissue damage to the trachea and esophagus, and numerous more cuts, scrapes, and bruises covering his body, all ignored to allow the limited charges of the dermal-regenerators for the more serious injuries.

Leonard had not been happy, but Jim had been adamant. The injuries were not life threatening and both men knew Jim had suffered worse. He was wrapped up as best as Nurse Chapel could with what supplies they could spare and sent on his way.

That wasn't to say that Leonard didn't hear about his friend over the course of the next week. Jim seemed to be everywhere doing everything all at once. In Engineering helping the Lieutenant – the one who had come onboard from Delta Vega – get every ounce of speed from the impulse engines without sacrificing life support or replicator functions. In the Astrometric Labs and Navigation, working with Spock and the wiz kid from the bridge as they tried to plot the most efficient - and safest - course home. Doing what repairs he could to help speed everything along. Hell, he'd even heard that he'd spent some time with the Vulcan refugees they had on board.

The kid was running himself ragged, but Leonard had never been prouder. Jim was becoming a Starfleet Officer – dare he say, a _Captain_ – Leonard could respect and follow. Listening to the crewmembers that he tended to, he could tell that he wasn't the only one whose opinions of James T. Kirk were shifting. Even Uhura, when she came in with a burn on her arm from the communications array she was working on enhancing, had commented to Leonard how little she really knew or understood about the farm boy she had met three years prior.

When they finally moored with Earth Dock above the planet they had saved, a cheer rang through the Enterprise that was echoed by a population of a grateful world. Leonard watched Jim as the acting Captain oversaw the transfer of the wounded, a weary but satisfied smile touching the younger man's lips. The two shared a look as Leonard followed the gurney carrying the now conscious Captain Pike.

Pike had stopped the orderlies when they maneuvered the hoverbed past Jim and waved them all away while he spoke quietly with the cadet. Jim's face softened, the small smile warming at whatever was said between them. Pike clasped Jim's arm in what Leonard recognized as a sign of affection and even he could make out the words that crossed Pike lips before waving them back over.

_"I'm proud of you."_

Leonard, it seemed, wasn't the only one who always knew what kind of man his best friend could be.

They had been back on earth for five days and he hadn't seen Kirk since the shuttle had left the Enterprise's bay and made its way to Starfleet Medical. Two of those days had been filled with debriefs and questioning and defending his actions as Acting Chief Medical Officer. The rest had been splitting his time at the clinic (treating cadets for shock, insomnia, exhaustion, and grief), Starfleet Medical (checking up on Captain Pike's and a few other long-term patients from the Enterprise) and getting what little rest wherever he found his head to lay. With the sun approaching the western horizon, it would be the first time in more than a hundred hours that he would be able to do so in a bed.

It was crushing, how quiet the campus was.

Nearly 85% of Starfleet Academy's third and fourth year cadets had been killed in the black surrounding Vulcan. Of the approximate thirteen hundred cadets called into service, more than eleven hundred were listed as killed or missing in action. Only those serving on the Enterprise were accounted for, and still eighteen cadets had died in the battles between the ship and Nero. They were the ones whose family would have something to bury; the rest had been lost to the singularity that had consumed Vulcan and the debris from the nine other ships that had answered the distress call.

Almost five thousand Starfleet Officers, Enlisted members, and cadets would be nothing more than a name on a marker.

Five thousand in the face of an entire people who would hold a place on the endangered species list for centuries.

Billions of Vulcans killed by one man in one instant; it was an abstract number he couldn't wrap his head around. But five thousand – eleven hundred that had once been his peers and classmates – that was a number that gutted Leonard as he walked the near empty quad from the Academy Clinic back to his dorm.

He barely remembered his trek across campus to Cochran Hall where he and Jim had shared a room for the last two and a half years. Leonard was barely awake as he inputted his code into the door panel, his body already preparing to crash for as long as humanly possible. Coming around the partition between the door and their sleeping area, he abruptly stopped when he saw the figure sitting on the second bed.

"Jim?"

It had been five days since he had seen his friend. A friend that, if he were being honest with himself, in those five days he hadn't given a second though to. At first it was because Leonard had been sequestered away by Starfleet security the moment he had returned to the planet. He had heard that all of them – those that had been serving as the command crew – had received the same consideration. He had assumed Jim had been debriefed accordingly. When his questioning ended he had immediately been called to Starfleet Medical where the next three days blurred together.

However, now that he'd thought about it he didn't think the kid had reported to medical yet despite knowing all the others had. As Jim's emergency contact as well as listed as his primary care physician, he would have heard had Jim been treated by anyone else. A chill went through him as he recognized the possibility that his best friend had not received medical attention since he'd been triaged back on the Enterprise.

And sure enough, when the blonde looked up there were heavy bags of exhaustion beneath his eyes and the bruises and contusions to his face and throat were still untreated. He cursed himself when he realized Jim had been going around with only partially treated injuries for twelve days. He took a single step forward, intending to rectify that, before he took in the rest of what he was seeing.

Jim was dressed in civilian clothes; jeans, dark t-shirt, and a hooded jacket. There was a duffle on the floor by his feet and Leonard's heart pounded when he noticed that the few personal effects the other man owned were not in their usual places around the room. In fact, Jim's side of their shared space was distinctively bare. His uniforms were the only clothing hanging in the open closet and the Academy issued PADD and COMM were sitting on the desk.

"No!" he shook his head, wanting to deny what his mind was putting together.

Jim got up slowly, a hand unconsciously pressing up against what Leonard knew were still bruised and broken ribs, and picked up his duffle. "I wanted to say good-bye before I left."

"This is horseshit!" Leonard bellowed, all thought of sleep gone. He stalked into the room and chucked his PADD and Med-kit onto his bed. "I thought that goddamn green-blooded bastard was going to get the charges dismissed."

The blonde shrugged and straightened his posture when he shifted the duffle strap onto his shoulder. "It's not Spock's fault. He did retract his accusation but Komack wouldn't allow it; said that it had already gone to deliberation and that he would not allow such a blatant disregard of the code of conduct – not to mention everything that came after – to be ignored just because I have a horseshoe the size of Jupiter up my ass."

"He said that?" Leonard gaped.

"Maybe not in so many words, but that was the gist of it." Jim sighed, wincing when he inhaled too deeply.

Leonard frowned and reached for the med-kit when Jim's hand on his arm stopped him. "I'm fine, Bones. They may have kept me… sequestered, but they aren't stupid. I've been seen to."

"Which incompetent quack is letting you walk around like that?" the doctor demanded.

"Can we not do this right now?" Jim all but pleaded. "My transport leaves in thirty and I still have to get over to the Shuttle Hangar."

"So that's it?" Leonard hissed in indignation. "You save the goddamn planet and they kick you out?"

"The jury is still out, but I thought I'd save them the trouble."

That brought him up short again. "They're still – GODDAMN IT JIM! Are you really that much of a self-destructive moron?"

"You weren't there!" Jim suddenly roared. "No matter who was interrogating me, no matter what I said, no matter the reasoning I gave them, they were out for blood! Cheating on the Kobayashi was the least of it! A dozen different charges just for being on the ship; disregarding countless orders from a Commanding Officer; Compromising said commanding officer; insubordination; conduct unbecoming; treason, mutiny, sedition-"

"Sedition?!"

The younger man pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. "I convinced a Starfleet Officer to disobey orders and leave his post in the hands of an unknown entity. Not to mention manipulating and coercing a promising Medical Cadet to bring me illegally onto the Enterprise."

He felt the air go out of him, like he'd just been sucker punched. "I _told_ them it was my idea, that you-"

"And I told them I convinced you to do it. Who do you think they wanted to believe more?" Jim looked him straight in the eyes and Leonard was gutted by the lack of remorse he saw in those brilliant blue orbs. "You're practically a god in the Medical Track, Bones; they need you. Besides, if they convicted you of those charges you'd not only be out of Starfleet you'd have seen the inside of a prison for at least five years. Me, I'm the 'genius level repeat offender' that is an embarrassment to the organization. I'm on my way out, no reason why you need to follow me."

He slumped onto the edge of his bed, his legs unable to support him any longer. He stared up at his best friend and shook his head. "You go, I go."

Jim's hand clapped onto his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Not this time, Bones."

"Where will you go?" He asked around the lump in his throat, trying not to recognize the sudden pain in his chest.

"Home, for now." He shrugged one shoulder and adjusted the duffle strap. "I got a message a couple of days before the distress call from Vulcan that the guy I'm paying to take care of the place needed to see me about stuff. I was supposed to go after Graduation, but now's as good a time as any. Then, if I'm somehow not in prison again, who knows? Maybe I'll start that road trip I'd planned on taking before Pike waylaid me. See the world, now that it's not about to be sucked into a black hole."

"Goddamn it!" Leonard exclaimed quietly, his chin lowered to his chest and his fists clenched on his lap.

"Yeah." Jim was quiet a moment before he cleared his throat and took a couple steps toward the door. He stopped and Leonard looked up when Jim came back. "Fuck it."

He'd have been lying if he'd never thought about it, but he never thought he'd know what it felt like to have Jim Kirk's lips on his again. They were soft and warm, electrifying even with such a feather light touch. It was infinitely better than he remembered. Jim's left hand cupped the side of his face, the thumb caressing gently at the skin of his cheekbone. Eyes wide, Leonard was too stunned to reciprocate and a few seconds later Jim was already pulling back.

The half-smile on his face was unlike anything Leonard had seen before. Jim was usually so confident, cocksure, and the expression he wore now exposed just how vulnerable and fragile the younger man really was. "Take care of yourself, Bones."

The southern man had never been dumbstruck before. Unable to respond, to move or speak, it was several minutes before he even notice that Jim was gone.

Jim…

Jim had kissed him…

On the lips…

Lips that still tingled from the touch of his friend…

More than a friend…

Jim wanted more…

… So did Leonard.

His mind was still trying to process _that_ fact when a soft trilling sound filled the dorm room. He automatically reached for his COMM when he realize that it wasn't his making the noise; it was Jim's. He stood and picked it up, hesitating only a moment when he saw the ID on the communicator's small screen.

"He's gone, Sir."

_"Shit!"_ Pike's voice was furious and his snarled curse echoed somewhat in the room. _"When?"_

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he glanced at the chronometer on the wall and swore to himself. "More than an hour ago, Sir." Had he really been that flabbergasted that he just sat there while Jim…?

Yeah, he really had.

_"Shit, shit, shit!"_ The Captain spat again. _"I just had a visit to my room at Medical from Admiral Barnett; told me that Komack hasn't just been campaigning to get Kirk booted from the program, he tried to get him brought up on criminal charges!"_

He nodded uncaring that Pike couldn't see it. "Jim said he was being charged with Sedition; called his debrief an interrogation.

_"Which I don't doubt for a second."_ The sneer in the other man's voice came through the COMM lough and clear. _"From what the Admiral was able to tell me, Komack had tried to keep him out of it. Hell, according to Richard, Jim wasn't even brought before the Admiralty for debrief until this morning."_

"This morn – he would have been picked up by security with everyone else when we first got dirtside! That's five days!" Fury lanced through him and he heard the delicate COMM creak in his hand when his fingers fisted around it. His jaw clenched and he hiss through his teeth. "Explains why he was still hurting from injuries sustained nearly two weeks ago!"

_"He was still wounded?"_ Pike ground out, venom practically bleeding into his words. _"Richard didn't mention that part. This is a goddamn cockup." _

"Tell me something I don't know!" He snarled with every ounce of vitriol he had. "Captain."

Pike chuckled grimly at his delayed tacked on address of grade. _"All right, you said he's gone? An hour ago?"_

"Yes, Sir." Leonard looked around at the empty side of the room. "Clothes, personal effects, left his Academy PADD and COMM, obviously. And it's closer to ninety minutes now."

_"Did he say where?"_

"Home, Sir."

_"Good."_ Pike sounded relieved and it surprised Leonard more than a little.

"Captain?"

_"We know where he is, we know where to go to bring him back."_ Pike sighed and Leonard could hear the exhaustion creeping through the cracks. _"Apparently Jim made quite the impression on most of the Admirals; brought more than a few hard truths to the table. There's no way Barnett's going to let Komack damage Starfleet any more than it already is. Jim is a hero – hell, all of you are! – and the PR department will only be able to keep the fact that half of the Enterprise's Command Crew at the time of engagement with Nero were a group of third and fourth year cadets for so long. As active officers, Commander Spock's, Lieutenant Sulu's, and Ensign Chekov's involvement are a matter of public record. But you, Cadet Uhura and Jim? Especially Jim…"_

"The Kelvin Baby avenging his father and saving the entire goddamn planet."

_"The story's already being spread across Campus, with all the classified details I have no idea how they got, and it's only a matter of time before it reaches the rest of the Federation."_

"It might save him from whatever crawled up Komack's damn Yankee ass and died." He paused at the silence from the other end and cringed when he rethought what he just said. Talk about disrespecting a commanding officer.

Captain Pike snorted and Leonard was grateful the man ignored it. "_Look, right now it might not be a bad thing for Jim to be anywhere else but here. I don't know if you have it already, but I'm sending you his personal COMM information as well as how to reach him at the Farm back in Iowa."_ His Academy PADD pinged from where it lay on his bed_. _

"I had the COMM, but not the rest. Thank you, Captain."

_"Give him tonight before you try to contact him." _

"Yes, Sir."

_"Good. Now, I understand you're just getting off another nineteen hour shift, so get some rest as well."_

**(/\\)**

**Riverside, Iowa, Earth**

His body ached, his ribs throbbing with every movement and his throat still felt like he was swallowing razor blades. The heat from the water pulsating across his shoulders helped alleviate some of the pain of his injuries, and maybe in a proper bed he'd actually be able to get some rest. It was odd, being back home after everything that had happened, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

_ "You incited mutiny, Cadet Kirk!"_

_"I did what I had to and I'd goddamn well do it again!"_

_"Watch yourself, Cadet, you're already on thin ice!"_

_"Oh fuck you, asshole!"_

Maybe he could have handled it better, maybe could have kept the proper decorum expected by a lowly Cadet when addressing people of their rank, but he really couldn't have cared less.

Jim knew from the moment he had been escorted away from the transporter pad that things weren't going to be pleasant. Though he hadn't expected the handcuffs as soon as they were out of sight of the others, nor being taken to Starfleet Headquarters across the bay and thrown into a cell. He had spent the first day locked up going over the regulations regarding the treatment of prisoners in his head and accounting several gross violations.

At least they were smart and had a medic do a quick assess of his injuries. Bruises and lacerations mostly, and those were already well on their way to healing. There was nothing to be done about the broken ribs or hand and fingers, except a session or two with an osteogenic stimulator. They had been set and supported well enough and any further treatment was deemed unnecessary by those in charge of his case.

Left pretty much alone after that, he was going stir crazy when they finally took him from the cell after a handful of days. He hadn't spoken to anyone since his incarceration. The guards that brought him his meals refused to tell him anything of what was happening since the Enterprise's return. When he was finally brought out of the cell, they allowed the same medic who assessed him upon arrival to dose him with a couple of painkillers. He was then handcuffed and escorted to a conference room where he was secured to the table between him and the gathered Admiralty.

Komack led the inquisition.

His treatment since his return and the questions being thrown at him had sent a shard of ice through his gut. They were looking for a scapegoat since Nero was lost to them, and it seemed they had found it in him. The death of thousands of Starfleet personnel was about to be laid at his feet.

An hour into the questioning, Admiral Barnett had burst into the conference room. The man had taken one look at Jim and snarled at the guards to remove the restraints and then get the hell out of the room. Komack protested but a quiet and heated discussion between the pair had Komack pale and backing down and Barnett taking over the debriefing.

Until it seemed Komack couldn't hold his tongue any longer. The windbag had laid out Jim's actions in the worst possible way and Jim snapped.

_"You weren't there! You don't know and no matter how many reports you read you never will! From the moment we came out of Warp we were at war and your fucking rules and regulations were meaningless! When you are in the Black and you've got the lives of nearly eight hundred men and women in your hands then you bloody well do everything you fucking can to bring them home!"_

_"It was not your duty to do so!"_

_"I saw it when no one else did! Me! Not Captain Pike, not Commander Spock, not any of you! You, sitting back here in your comfy offices while thousands of your subordinates were slaughtered by an enemy they were wholly unprepared for!"_

_"You committed mutiny and sedition, Cadet Kirk!"_

_"I did what I had to and I'd fucking well do it again!"_

_"Watch yourself, Cadet, you're already on thin ice!"_

_"Oh fuck you, asshole!"_

The silence of the conference room had been deafening and he had been breathing hard but they needed to hear it.

_"You teach your cadets the bare bones of what they need to know to make it out in the Black. But what you don't teach them is what to do when what they know isn't good enough. What do they do when they are facing an enemy the magnitude of what they faced in Nero? You think you do, with tests like the Kobayashi, but all you're teaching them is that when the odds are against them to accept defeat. To not look for that answer that lies **outside** rules and regulations. To accept that the men and women under their command are not worth fighting for. _

_"I will **never** accept that. And neither did my father."_

Yeah, maybe he could have handled it better, but he meant every word he said. He couldn't regret it when he had removed his Starfleet Insignia Pin from the breast of his shirt and tossed it at them, their silence the only thing following him as he then left the room without being dismissed. He had made his point, and maybe they would learn from it.

Doubtful, but it wasn't his problem anymore.

The water was nearly cold now and he quickly finished up before shutting the shower off. Jim's thoughts were going a mile a minute as he wrapped a towel around his waist and entered the master bedroom. As he shuffled through his scant belongings in the duffle that lay on the foot of the bed, those thoughts turned away from his fate and future in Starfleet.

Bones.

It hadn't been the first time he'd kissed the man. They'd kissed and drunkenly groped one another near the end of their first year, laughing it off when they woke the next day. The second time, a little more than a year ago, they'd both been stone-cold sober. It hadn't been planned, hadn't been expected, and they didn't truthfully know which had been the one to instigate it. It had been intense, and frightening, and neither had been ready for what that kiss had promised. Jim hoped, doubted they ever would be.

Their third and last kiss had been one of good-bye.

Having slipped on a pair loose fitting sweats over his briefs, he exited the room and made his way down the back stairs and into the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, not really, but the protein bars and bottles of water he'd been given during his stay with Starfleet Security weren't cutting it and he wanted something to eat. There wouldn't be much in the cupboards, not until he got the delivery he had ordered on the shuttle into Iowa got there later that day.

He was munching on a somewhat stale cracker as he made his way into the living room, pausing by the door to the basement when he heard a noise from behind it. "Terry?" He called, figuring the caretaker had come in while he'd been upstairs in the shower.

"Down here, Jimmy." A man's voice called up quietly, barely discernible through the heavy wood of the old door.

He pushed the door open and nearly gagged at the smell that wafted out to great him.

"Holy shit, Terry!" He set the packet of crackers on a hall table and covered his nose and mouth with his arm as he made his way down the stairs. "Did one of Mr. Helix' barn cats get in and die again? Damn, that smell will take wee-"

The hand that suddenly wrapped around his ankle through the gap beneath the stairs was totally unexpected. As was it to suddenly yank his foot from beneath him and send him tumbling down the last few steps. His ribs and still healing bruises protested at the sudden and rapid descent and he was gasping for breath when he came to an abrupt stop at the bottom.

A shadow of movement had him turning his head to the side and he couldn't stop the shout of horrified shock that tore through his mouth at the image of Terry McNamara's rotting face staring back at him. The flesh was grey and waxy, the nose and lips already partially decomposed and missing, telling Jim that the man had been dead for days. Dried blood marred the exposed teeth and a jagged tear across his throat had spilled copious amounts of blood down the man's chest. The shadow moved again in his periphery and Jim shifted his gaze just in time to see the sole of a heavy boot coming for his head.

Pain exploded through his temple, sparks of light and waves of darkness suddenly warring with each other to consume his vision as the blow sent him rolling across the floor. He tasted blood in his mouth, felt it streaming from the side of his head. He couldn't get his body to move, even as he heard those same heavy booted feet coming toward him again. The shadows crouched down next to him, the sparks and waves making it impossible for him to make out any detail of his assailant other than a chillingly familiar smirk.

Jim closed his eyes, letting the waves of dark take him away from the nightmare he found himself trapped in. That last he heard was a voice that terrorized him still, even after more than a decade since the last time he heard it.

"Welcome home, Jimmy."


	2. Part II

**Part II **

**Stardate 2258.57**

**Starfleet Medical, San Francisco**

"Any word from our wayward hero?"

Chris looked up from the communicator in his hand as Doctor McCoy entered the room. The man was clean shaven, wore a clean and pressed set of scrubs, and looked like he'd finally gotten a suitable amount of sleep on a proper bed instead of in a dark corner somewhere. With a frustrated sigh, Chris shook his head and put his communicator down on the bed next to him. "No, but I'm not really surprised. You?"

"Nothing, and I've tried a half dozen times in the past hour alone. Kid can be a pigheaded son of a bitch." McCoy muttered as he walked over to the bed.

Chris chuckled. "Don't let Winnie here you say that."

"Winona?" McCoy quirked his eyebrow and smirk. "Who do you think said it first?"

"You and she met!" Chris' smile grew. "Last year, right? When the USS Europa was in Space dock for the refit? I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that get together."

McCoy gave an amused snort and picked up the PADD from its cubby at the foot of Chris' bed. "There are some things, Captain Pike, that will forever remain between me, the wonderfully terrifying Winona Kirk, and a small, dark, oddly alien creature we shared a table with in the mess hall while Jim was taking one of his finals."

Chris waited as McCoy went over the files and notation in his chart. "Well, Doc, will I ever dance again?"

It was said in jest, but the moment of hesitation from McCoy was telling. "Things are improving, Christopher." The man was no longer his cadet but the amazing Doctor who had saved his life. "Your Primary was here this morning and Dr. Boyce noted that you have some more sensation in the feet and legs already."

"A lot of pins and needles, and a bit of pain." Chris admitted, the atmosphere regrettably losing its joviality from just a few moments prior. "But he's got me on the good stuff so I'm not feeling any of it."

"Phillip always gave you the good stuff, made the rest of us suffer through the only okay stuff."

Chris glanced over as two men in the grey uniforms of the Starfleet Admirals entered the room, their black and grey covers tucked primly under their arms. Chris and McCoy both snapped off their salutes, but Admiral Barnett waved them off before either could say anything. "At ease, gentlemen, this is not the time nor place for ceremony."

"How are you, Chris?" Admiral Marcus asked with what seemed to be genuine concern.

"Good, I think." He looked over at McCoy. "Doc?"

McCoy nodded and made a couple of notes with a stylus before tucking it back into the PADD and placing it back into its holder at the foot of the bed. "I've ordered a few more scans to be done throughout the next ten days, but the repairs I did to your spinal column and central nervous system seem to be holding and healing as I would expect. Barring any unforeseen complications, and with several month of PT, maybe a year, while you may not dance again, you will certainly walk."

The relief flooding through him was palpable and Chris allowed himself a moment to just bask in the knowledge that he would not have to spend the rest of his days in a hover chair. He didn't realize he had slumped into the pillow of his bed until Barnett and Marcus both chuckled at him and brought him back to the moment at hand. McCoy had already saluted again and made to excuse himself from the Admirals presence when Chris stopped him.

"McCoy, hold up." He turned to the Admirals before him. "Not that I don't appreciate the visit, Sirs, but something tells me this isn't just to check on my progress. If this has anything to do with what happened on the Enterprise or the situation with Cadet Kirk, then it should be said in front of Doctor McCoy. Not only was he there and can give you an insight into the events of the past two weeks, he is Jim's friend. I intend to keep him well within the loop."

Both men shared a look before Marcus nodded and motioned for McCoy to rejoin them. "Close the door, son."

McCoy did as he was instructed and gave Chris an appreciative look before turning his attention to the Admirals.

Richard took a moment, removing the cover from beneath his arm and placing it on the foot of Chris' bed. "Unfortunately, you're right Chris. The media has the story. The Starfleet Press Secretary was given the heads up as a courtesy, but nothing we can do will kill the story. Within the hour, the entire Federation is going to know what happened between the Enterprise and the Narada. Acting Captain James Tiberius Kirk is going to be branded a hero unlike any the Fleet has ever known. Even his father's sacrifice is going to pale in comparison to what that boy did up there."

"Not just him either." Marcus added succinctly with a glance over to the Doctor. "You, Doctor McCoy, along with Commander Spock, Cadet Uhura, and all the other members of the command crew are going to be lauded as the Heroes of the Federation. Not just Earth. Worst part of this entire thing is, it's the goddamn truth. If Kirk hadn't convinced you to smuggle him on board-"

"With all due respect, Sir," McCoy managed not to snarl, but it was a near thing. "Jim didn't convince me of anything. I stated, on the record, that I didn't give him a choice. I stand by that, no matter what that corn-fed, self destructive infant has to say about it!"

Marcus just stared at McCoy, and Chris could see that Barnett was trying not to smirk, before bobbing his head in deference to the good doctor. "As you say, Doctor. Whatever the case may be, once this story hits the air Starfleet needs to release a statement and it would sure as hell be nice to be able to say that Cadet Kirk is still a Starfleet man."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have let that bastard Komack have Jim basically kidnapped as soon as he got back to Earth, falsely imprisoned for five days, before trying to railroad him into life in a prison – or worse, executed for sedition – and all without proper medical treatment for the injuries he sustained while literally saving the entire goddamn planet!" The room was deathly quiet after McCoy's little tirade and Chris could see it take a second before what he said just registered with the Doctor.

"Sirs." McCoy tacked on feebly, causing Chris to laugh at the younger man's horrified expression.

Marcus was less than pleased at being told off by a third year Cadet, fully licensed Doctor or not, but Barnet just looked defeated and shook his head again. "You're absolutely right, Doctor McCoy. This situation with Kirk? We'll, it's a mess of our own making. What he did for Earth, for the Federation, can never be repaid."

"He's not looking for payment, Sir." McCoy spoke before Chris could even open his mouth. "Hell, he's not even looking for recognition or fame or whatever commendations you want to throw at him this time."

"And what does he want?" Barnet asked.

"Respect." Chris answered for the absent Kirk. "People look at him and see the second coming of George Kirk, or they see the delinquent with the criminal record, or the slacker who only gets ahead because of who his father was-"

"Which is the furthest thing from the truth," McCoy interjected indignant on Jim's behalf. "I roomed with him for three years, I saw him bust his ass for every class, every club, every study group, hell even classes he wasn't signed up for. He worked damned hard to get where he is."

"The point is," Chris continued. "They don't see Jim. Hell, even I'm guilty of it from time to time. But coming out from beneath his father's shadow – a father he never knew – and earning the respect given to him? I think that's all he's ever wanted."

"Well, shit! That's easy!" Marcus said with a wry little smirk. "I was impressed with the kid as soon as I heard what he did to earn that complaint of academic misconduct from Commander Spock. If I hadn't been in London on other business at the time, it never would have gone to the tribunal."

"Just don't ever tell him that." McCoy muttered. "He'll be insufferably smug and impossible to live with."

"We'll keep that in mind." Barnett sighed and retrieved his cover from the bed, once again tucking it under his arm. "Chris, we'll let you get your rest and follow your Doctor's orders. Doctor McCoy take good care of him. I would appreciate it if either of you would let me know if you hear from Cadet Kirk."

"Aye, Sir." Both men gave a casual salute and a moment later they were left alone again.

Chris sighed and relaxed once more into his pillows. "Gods, when the press gets wind of what Komack tried to do to Jim or that he's no longer on campus…"

"When, not if?" McCoy grumbled. "You think that's likely?"

"At this point I think it's inevitable." Chris admitted reluctantly.

"So, when do we stop letting him hide?" McCoy demanded with a pout Chris knew the doctor was not aware of. It was endearing and Chris was glad to see that it appeared that McCoy would always be in Jim's corner.

"We'll give him a couple more days. Today's Friday. The press should be content with what they have for now, I say we have at least a week before they start frothing at the mouths for a shot at Jim. If we haven't heard from him by Monday morning, we'll go and bring our boy home."

**(/\\)**

**Kirk Farmstead, Riverside**

Years ago, there had been a fire.

The entire home had been engulfed in flames and smoke, it's ancient wiring finally giving up and setting the family home ablaze. He remembered being three years old and trapped in his room, the heat and the smoke and the blood. Grandpa Rus had tried to get to him only to have part of the roof collapse on him. Tiberius Kirk had survived the rescue, only to succumb to the smoke inhalation and pneumonia days later. He never woke to know that his youngest Grandson had survived too.

That was one of the bad things about being Jim Kirk.

He remembered.

Everything.

An Eidetic memory allowed him to recall everything he read and saw with near perfect clarity. He also had hyperthymestic syndrome– a condition that Obāsan Hoshi had believed came from surviving his birth on a barely-shielded medical shuttle in space – which made it possible for him to remember with exact details nearly every moment of his life. Even as young as two and three years of age.

And not just remember it, but every sense was hyper aware so he could recall the smells, tastes and sounds of every moment as if he were reliving it in the present.

The way the smoke burned his throat and nose with its acrid smell and taste; the way every cough was like a thousand knives slicing through lungs and chest; the way the fire crackled just outside his bedroom room and across the threshold over his roof.

The way Grandpa Rus' flesh smelled as the burning debris fell on him and literally began cooking him alive.

Even after the house had been rebuilt, his Mother and Frank keeping it as close to the original floorplans as possible, Jim would never forget the smell and sound of the fire that had claimed his Grandfather's life. He had been terrified of that room for the longest time, afraid the smells of the smoke and burning wood and flesh would always be there.

It was Frank who helped him through that.

Frank Davis had been a good man; a good husband and father. He had been the only father Jim had ever known and Frank had been good to Jimmy. He read to him, stayed with him through his oh too vivid nightmares, played with him, held him when he cried for Grandpa Rus, taught him to ride his first bike, bandaged his knees when he fell, even taught him everything the man knew about combustion engines and classic cars.

Then came the fight and revelation that changed it all.

Winona was still very much in love with the memory of a dead man, and Frank could never compete with that. Winona went back to Starfleet, and Frank went back to the bottle.

They say the bad doesn't wash away the good, and his memory makes it impossible for him to forget either. So, for nearly fifteen years he had pushed it all away. And in one moment it had all come rushing back to him.

It was the smell that first drew Jim out of the black and back to reality, the putrid rotting smell that he immediately recognized at the decaying corpse that had been Terry McNamara. The pounding in his head, throbbing in rhythm with his pulse had him opening his eyes, desperate that for once his memory had failed him and he wasn't… that it hadn't been…

Jim was sitting in the master bedroom, in one of the straight back armchairs from the downstairs dining set. The sun that had already dipped beneath the western horizon was now long risen in the east, it's light warm against his back from the southern facing window above the bed. A sweatshirt had been slipped onto his body, socks put on his feet, and even a blanket had been placed over his lap. His back was stiff and there was a crick in his neck, his arms cramped from not moving for several hours because of the bindings keeping him in place.

A sudden surge of adrenaline had him moving and he jerked against the restraints. He couldn't see what was keeping his wrists secured behind the back of the chair, his shoulders aching and stiff from behind held in place for what he guessed would have been hours, but he could assume it was the same as the rest of the bindings. A coarse sisal rope was wound around his ankles and calves, also a generous amount around his torso, keeping him well secured to the wood of the chair. His heart was thundering in his chest and he swore vehemently only to have the expletives muffled by the layers of tape covering his mouth.

Panting through his nose he twisted and tugged, the captive cadet put all his training to use and made every effort to free himself. The nights he and Bones had spent working together, trying to keep himself focussed on his task and not the memories of his past that he knew were just waiting for him to acknowledge. Craning his head, he looked around the room, searching for anything he could possible reach to cut himself loose. The COMM he had taken out of his jacket was on the nightstand, a small blinking light alerting him to missed calls and messages. His duffle was laying open on the foot of the bed but still out of reach.

There was a squeak from the back stairs, just outside of the master bedroom door, and Jim froze at the sound. His hands were shaking from his futile effort at escape, and the rising panic he felt in the pit of his stomach, and he clenched them into fists to hide the tremors from the man who stepped into the room.

The man who stopped in the doorway, carrying a tray of items, staring at Jim with a surprised expression which quickly morphed into one of blank indifference. Jim felt his heart freeze inside his chest and his breathing sped up until he was certain he was going to hyperventilate.

"Hello, son."

… Frank.

Yes, fifteen years ago Frank Davis had been a very different man. He was still six feet tall, still thick with muscles though somewhat leaner, still had the light brown hair, which was even lighter now, speckled with grey throughout. But it was the eyes that had Jim watching anxiously when the man walked toward him.

They were sober now.

Stone, cold sober and even more frightening because of it.

Frank placed the tray on the bed and stopped only a couple feet from the chair. He reached toward him, hesitating when Jim cringed and pulled away instinctively. A second later, calloused fingers were probing at the tender spot of Jim's forehead and the bound man realized that the gash Frank's kick had caused had been treated, at least superficially.

"It'll leave a scar, I'm afraid." The man's voice has gone raspy with age and it still sent a spike of dread down Jim's spine. "The dermal regenerator your mother kept here hadn't been used in a while; it lost its charge after only a couple minutes."

Jim jerked his head back with a vicious, hate filled glare that had his former stepfather sighing and looking away.

"I wasn't sure when you would wake, but I brought you breakfast." Frank gestured to the tray. It held some toast, a few slices of apples, water and juice, even a cup of coffee.

"Hmmphh!" Cursing against the gag and yanking on his restraints again, Jim kept the glare focussed on Frank.

The older man looked back at him before nodding slowly. He came back to Jim's side and worked his fingernails beneath the edge of the tape on his cheek. Carefully, slowing whenever Jim winced with the sudden pull on his skin, Frank worked to remove the adhesive from Jim's mouth. It took several tense seconds, and when he was finished Frank balled up the tape and set it on the corner of the tray.

"What that fuck is this, Frank?" Jim ground out, leveling his glare at the man's back.

"Isn't that the million credit question?" Frank ran a hand through his greying hair and sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the tray to the side momentarily. He sighed, turning Jim and the chair until they were face to face again, and met Jim's stare. "I'm in trouble, Jimmy."

"And what? You thought assaulting me and tying me up in my own house – murdering someone! – was the best way to ask for my help?"

"Would you have agreed to see me if I asked?"

"Fuck you!" Jim bellowed, jerking uselessly against the ropes. "You tried to kill me, you sonuvabitch!"

"I never wanted to hurt you!" Frank yelled right back, anger and regret warring in his dull eyes.

"You nearly beat me to death, asshole, and when that didn't work you fucking stabbed me! Eight times!"

"Jimmy-"

The COMM on the nightstand chirped suddenly, a soft tone signifying an incoming call request. Frank didn't move, kept his eyes on Jim until a minute later the chirping stopped.

"Why aren't you still in jail, Frank?" He demanded. "I'm pretty sure you were given a life sentence for the shit you did to Sam and me."

Frank inhaled slowly, then exhaled smoothly in a controlled way Jim recognized as an anger management technique. (Bones had taught him their first year at the Academy.) "I'm sober, Jimmy. Have been since that night."

"Well, whoop-dee-do!" Jim cheered sarcastically. "Let me give you a standing ovation – oh, wait…"

Frank rolled his eyes and an indulgent half-smile curled the corner of his lips. "I was serving my time in the Elba II Colony, Jimmy; the asylum there. I wasn't in my right mind the night I… the night I hurt you."

"The night you gutted me and crushed my throat." Jim tilted his head back, stretching his neck away from the collar of his sweatshirt. "Wanna see the scar left behind from the Tracheostomy the Doc had to cut into me just so I could breathe?"

The man cringed and rubbed his hands over his face. When he brought them down, his face was stern, and he glowered at his captive. "Do I have to gag you again you little shit, or will you shut the fuck up and let me explain?"

"Now there's the Frank I remember!" Jim returned with a sneer. "Explain this to me then, Dad: how the hell are you out of prison and what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm out because my therapists say I'm better." Frank admitted with no small amount of pride.

Jim looked down incredulously at the rope securing him to the chair then back to the older man. "Oh yeah, really better."

"I'm not crazy, Jimmy. You remember the debt I owed; the one I was going to pay off with the car you so thoughtfully drove into the quarry?" A vindictive smirk tugged at Jim's mouth, but he kept silent, allowing the other man to continue. "Just because I was sent away, didn't mean the debt was erased. I still owed that money, as well as more than fourteen years' worth of interest."

"I'm sure as hell not going to pay it for you."

Frank shook his head. "Wasn't the plan."

"Then what, Frank? What are you hoping to get out of all this, except another prison sentence?"

"You." Frank said matter-of-factly.

Jim swallowed the lump of apprehension that suddenly choked him. "Excuse me?"

The man just looked at him for a moment before rising from his seat on the bed. He walked over to the window on the western wall and stared at the empty expanse outside. "I'm sorry for hurting you last night. I've never wanted to hurt you; not then and not now. But I couldn't remember what sedatives you were allergic to. I need you alive, Jimmy."

The calm, even tone of Frank's voice was worrying him; even more so than the screams and bellows he remembered from his youth. Jim clenched his fists and flexed his arms, trying to find whatever leverage he could to free himself. "Frank…?"

"I've known you since you were just a baby. I helped raise you since you were two years old; you were my son in every way that mattered to me, even if it wasn't by blood. You were mine, Jimmy." He turned to face his captive with a scowl. "And then that bitch mother of yours turned you against me. Sam, well, he was never mine; too many memories of his fucking saint of a father. But you… Oh, Jimmy! You were a son a father could be proud of."

Frank walked back to the chair and stood behind Jim, hands heavy on his shoulder and stilling his struggles with a painful squeeze. "Not so much since you disappeared after the clusterfuck that was Tarsus. Still, from what I understand someone out there really, really wants you."

The apprehension Jim felt swelled into full on fear and his heart was once more pounding inside his chest. "You're not making sense, Frank."

"Let me tell you Jimmy, fifteen years ago I was scared, terrified actually. The people I owed the credits to were not nice people. With Winona gone and Sam gone the only one left for them to hurt to get at me-"

"-was me." Jim finished for him.

Nodding, Frank let go of Jim's shoulders and sat back on the bed, picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and taking a slow sip. "I was going to give them the car. I convinced them that fucking car was worth more than what I owed them; which was true. But then you went and did what you did, and I realized you were going to die as soon as they found out the car was gone. You were going to leave me just like Winona did; just like Sam did. Something inside me… broke."

"Frank," Jim licked his dry lips, trying to calm the panic that was swirling in his gut. "Why are you here, Frank? What do you want from me?"

Frank put the mug back down. "One of the first things my therapists got me to accept what that you aren't mine anymore, Jimmy. You couldn't be, not after what I did. Once I acknowledged that, I was able to let you go. I hadn't thought about you in… six years? Just focussed on getting better."

Jim watched him as Frank got back to his feet and once more approached him, kneeling and checking the rope that had begun to stretch at his wrists. He kept on, as though having a casual conversation, even as he retightened the bonds.

"About six months ago, I got a visitor. First one in fourteen years! He told me he could not only get me out, but he had bought my debt from the unsavory people I owed it to. Said that if I did one thing for him, he would forgive it all. No set time limit, just as soon as I could accomplish it. As a bonus, he'd set me up with a nice tidy sum of credits on the planet of my choosing. A new beginning, and all I had to do was get this one little thing for an associate of his." With a little smile, Frank stood back up and stepped over to the dresser where Jim finally noticed a roll of thick tape.

Jim didn't need to be a genius to figure out what that one little thing was.

Or rather, who.

"Frank, don't!" Jim was struggling again as Frank tore off a strip and walked back toward him. "Don-mmmphh!"

Jim grimaced as his head was pushed back and the tape smoothed over his mouth. A second piece was added, and a third, before Frank tossed the roll on to the bed and patted him condescendingly on the cheek. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. When I forced McNamara to send you that message, your reply said Graduation. That's still two months away. And then there was whatever that was with whoever that was that took out Vulcan – well, honestly, I thought we were all going to die when the news showed that ship in orbit. Still don't know what happened, don't care now that we're not doomed, you know? But still, I wasn't ready for you to show up yesterday out of the blue like that. Kind of forced my hand, but I talked with my guy and we've come up with an extraction plan – easy enough with nearly half the fleet destroyed and the other half still out in deep space – just have to keep you on ice for a few days."

Jim watched as he picked up the tray and started for the door, mumbling to himself. "McNamara is really stinking up the place, so I need to take care of that before they get here."

The COMM on the nightstand started chirping again and this time Frank walked over to it. He picked it up without looking at it and slid it into his back pocket. "I'll just hold on to this for a while." He glanced over his shoulder at the captive cadet. "I guess breakfast will have to wait."

"Mmmphh!" Jim strained against the ropes, but any leeway he had was now gone, and watched as his ex-stepfather walked out of the room.

"Try and get some rest, Jimmy." His voice carried from the hall. "Your ride will be here Sunday.


	3. Part III

**Part III **

**Stardate 2258.57**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco**

Ten hours.

Forty-two calls.

Seventeen messages.

Zero response.

Leonard was worried.

Sitting on a bench in one of the many green spaces on campus, Leonard stared at the communicator cradled in his palms. In the past three years, ever since he threatened to throw up on the man, this was not the longest he had gone without seeing or speaking to his roommate. Hell, they hadn't even been roommates to begin with, not until Leonard had complained about the pimply eighteen-year-old first-year recruit he'd originally been bunked with. Two days later, Jim had been moving in and admitted to hacking the housing database so Leonard and he wouldn't have to deal with children. They'd shared a room ever since.

Until yesterday.

There was something different about this silence, something that felt more permanent than any of the other times they'd been apart. Even when Spock had marooned Jim on that godforsaken ice rock, Leonard knew Jim would be back. But not this time.

When Jim had kissed him – not their first mind you – it had felt too much like good-bye for Leonard's liking. It had been too final.

The first time, he barely remembered. It was after Jim got back from his time on the Farragut shadowing Captain Garth for the duration of the Axanar Peace Mission. To this day he doesn't know what Jim did to garner that commendation, but the shitshow that followed that first night back on Earth was more than enough to have them both drinking themselves into a stupor several days later when Jim had been released from the hospital. Leonard is pretty sure he started it; pinned Jim to the wall of their dorm with his larger body, grinding into him while their hands and mouths worked to cover every inch of the other's body. It had been frantic, and aggressive, and a mistake on so many levels that when Jim just laughed it off the next morning, Leonard had been more than willing to go along with it.

The second time… goddamn, that had wrecked Leonard. Sitting on their edge of their beds respectively, facing each other with their knees touching, talking about a multitude of things from their pasts. They hadn't had a drop of synthol the entire night and every word and touch was calculated and thought out. Jim had shown a level of trust in Leonard that no one ever had before, not even his ex-wife. They had connected on such an emotional and psychological level that it truly was no surprise when their lips had touched. They had been so in synch that Leonard couldn't tell you who had moved first.

Jim's arms had been hooked around Leonard's neck, drawing him in closer until the two of them had been forced to stand. Their bodies had melded together instinctively and so perfectly. Leonard's hands had slipped around his waist, holding him tight with an intimacy that had his heart thundering in his chest like it never had before. For several minutes the warmth from their embrace had spread through every fibre of his being and his vision of the future shifted until all he could see was James Tiberius Kirk.

When they finally parted for breath, Leonard had let his forehead rest against Jim's. He held his eyes shut, panting quietly through chapped lips, unwilling to disturb the intensity of the moment they had found themselves in. Jim had shifted until his face was buried in the crook of Leonard's neck, and Leonard had been more than willing to ignore the dampness from the other man's tears that had soaked through the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh gods…" Jim's words had been near inaudible, but he heard them none the less. "I love you, Bones."

"I know." Leonard wasn't bragging. It was the truth. He knew that Jim loved him, because he loved Jim. And damn it all to hell, if that hadn't thrilled and terrified him at the same time. "But we can't..."

"… I know."

They didn't kiss again, but they held onto each other in complete silence long into the night until exhaustion finally drove them apart. The never spoke about what had passed between them that night, but their relationship had certainly changed after that. For the better, if Leonard was being honest with himself.

And then yesterday.

Goddamn it! He had never expected for Jim to ever kiss him again; had expected to spend the rest of his life following the younger man around the galaxy and watching as Jim sought satisfaction everywhere else but with him. It had been such a shock, feeing those lips on his again, that Leonard had been next to useless and unable to stop Jim from leaving.

"Doctor McCoy?"

The tone in which the voice had called to him exposed the fact that his name had been called several times before he heard it. He looked up at the approaching Asian man with a moment's confusion, until he recognized the Enterprise's pilot. He rose to his feet in greeting, offering his hand to the young man. "Lieutenant Sulu."

"Hikaru, please." The pilot shook his hand the motioned for him to sit again. When they did, Hikaru smiled. "Everything all right, Doctor? You seemed a million miles away just then."

"Only about two thousand." He muttered with a last glance at the communicator before pocketing it. "What brings you to the Academy, Lieutenant – uh, Hikaru?" He corrected himself with a small smile at the man's pointed look.

Sulu just smirked a moment before turning on the bench to keep the setting sun from shining in his eyes. "With the leak to the media, most of those who were on the Enterprise have been recalled to Headquarters just across the Bay. I only graduated last year so I was exploring and… well..." His expression faltered and fell, the grief evident on his face.

Leonard knew exactly what he was feeling. "Yeah…"

Visibly shaking himself of his growing melancholy, Hikaru sighed. "Anyway, I was just walking through the gardens when I saw you sitting here. Didn't look like you should be alone right now."

"I'm a grown ass man-" Leonard started to snarl but softened his tone when Hikaru didn't look to be put out by his mood. "Sorry, been a long couple of days."

The pair were quiet a moment, both just watching the sun as it crept further beneath the horizon. Leonard's thoughts were just returning to his former contemplations when Sulu spoke again. "Rumor has it, Captain Pike is going to make a full recovery."

"Not quite." Leonard admitted, eyes watering slightly as he stared at the sun. "That bug could have paralyzed him – should have killed him if I'm being honest – but he'll walk again. He'll need a cane, but he won't be drummed out of the service because of it."

"You do good work, Doc." Hikaru leaned forward until his elbows were resting on his knees and turned his face to stare at Leonard pointedly. "So why do you look like you've lost your best friend?"

Leonard's breath hitched on the snarky response he wanted to say, but it was enough.

"So those rumors are true too." Hikaru sighed and shook his head. "Kirk's gone."

"Is that what they're saying?" McCoy scoffed.

"Almost no one's seen him since we got back to Earth." The pilot told him plainly. "It's been almost a week since we've been back, and the Hero of the Federation is MIA. The cadets are talking, the junior officers too. But the higher ups aren't saying anything and given Kirk's reputation you'd think he'd be basking in the limelight."

"Now hold on one goddamn minute!" Leonard snapped, turning a glare on the younger man that surprisingly didn't phase Sulu one bit. "Jim has never 'basked' in any of the attention he's been given. Everyone's got these goddamn ideas of who James Kirk is, but no one has the first clue of what kind of man he is!"

"I do." Hikaru countered without looking away from Leonard's heated stare. "Jim Kirk saved my life, Dr. McCoy. Not just because he stopped Nero, but before that. I fell from the drilling platform above Vulcan. The Romulans had already shredded my chute and I was falling. Kirk jumped after me, grabbed hold of me, and when his chute failed, and we were both falling to our deaths he refused to let go of me. He was screaming in my ear, yelling for the Enterprise to beam us back up but we both knew no one was going to be able to do it."

"The wiz kid was." Leonard said quietly.

With a scoff and a half smile, Hikaru nodded his agreement. "I don't think any of us really knew what Chekov was capable of until then. The point I'm trying to make, Doctor, is that in that moment, as far as Kirk and I were concerned, we were going to die. A smear on the red soil of Vulcan. And do you know what he did? That moment before we would have hit the ground – the instant before Pavel beamed us back onboard – Kirk twisted his body beneath mine so he would have hit the ground first. He did hit the transporter pad first, saved me from a few bruises and possibly broken bones."

Leonard swallowed the lump that had formed in the base of his throat, thinking on the mass of bruises on Jim's right shoulder and the hairline fracture to the socket of the ball joint.

"What he did? Well, doesn't exactly mesh with the stories I remember hearing of him the two years we were here together." Hikaru looked back at the setting sun. "I looked for him while we were still on the Enterprise, wanted to thank him and talk to him. Get to know him for myself instead of just through stories and rumors. But every time I found him, he was busy helping someone else, unintentionally changing someone else's perception of him."

"He tends to do that." Leonard stated warmly. He let the silence linger between them another moment before he withdrew the communicator from his pocket. He hesitated briefly before speaking to the helmsman. "The admiralty screwed up; let one of their numbers break at least a dozen Starfleet regulations and about a dozen more federation ones. I don't know what his problem was, but he had Jim locked up as soon as we got back and kept him isolated for five days. He was dragged, in chains, before a panel of Admirals like it was court martial instead of a debrief. With still untreated injuries, too, and instead of questioning him about his choices and actions they were talking about charges of mutiny and sedition-"

"Sedition?!" Sulu exclaimed in horror. "That's a death sentence if he's found guilty!"

"Some of the other Admirals who had been kept out of the process came to his defense, stopped it from going further than just talk." McCoy assured him, though he didn't feel so sure himself. "But Jim, he took it as a sign that they wanted him out and he left. He went home to Iowa yesterday and isn't answering my, or Captain Pike's, calls and message. He said something about a road trip when he left, but I know him. He won't stay on Earth if he gets it in his head to take off. He'll bounce, and no one will see him again."

"Shit." Hikaru shook his head, and the quiet surrounded the pair again. After a moment, Hikaru reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved his own communicator. "Give me his channel."

"What-"

"I'll start calling him." The man said as if it was the most obviously thing. "We never met prior to the Enterprise, only knew him by reputation, and maybe me calling him will surprise him enough he'll answer. Hell, I know a guy who could get us a shuttle with a few hours notice. If you're that worried about him taking off, I can fly you out there some time tomorrow."

**(/\\)**

**Kirk Farmstead, Riverside**

The sticky warmth trailing down his hands and fingers was easily ignored, but to Jim's ears the 'drip, drip' of his blood falling to the hardwood floor beneath him was as loud as thunder. The instant Frank had left the room, Jim had gotten to work. Tugging and twisting and pulling and stretching, except it was dark now and he had made zero progress.

He heard the chime of his communicator constantly throughout the day and when he heard the farmhouse terminal sounding, he hoped that whoever was trying to reach him – probably McCoy and Pike, maybe his mom and brother – would garner that something was wrong. It was unlikely, it wouldn't be the first time he went incommunicado, but with everything going on there was the chance Starfleet would be looking for him. At least he hoped. It was the only thing that kept him company in the dark.

Other than the memories.

Being back here, a place he hadn't been longer than a few hours since he was fifteen, was playing havoc with his mind. Dragging up memories of jumping on his mom and Frank's bed until Frank would tackle him and tickle him amidst gales of laughter. Curling up between them whenever he had a bad dream or when a summer storm would light up the night sky and scare him out of his own room. Good memories that he had shoved aside when the man in them became a monster.

_…Somewhere outside he could hear Mommy screaming his and Sammy's names. He started to cry; he didn't like how she sounded. He'd never heard her voice sound like that before and it scared him._

_Then the room suddenly got a little brighter and he was standing there: the man in blue. (He knew that color too). He looked around the room, said the same word Mommy always got angry with Grandpa Rus for saying, and quickly picked up his Grandpa. _

_Then Jimmy was alone again; the man in blue had put Grandpa over his shoulder and ran out of the bedroom door. _

_He saw the fire then. _

_It was on the doorframe and coming into his room..._

Jim had to close his eyes as a shudder coursed through his body, his fist clenching behind his back as the memory assaulted his senses. He could have sworn he could smell the burning of Grandpa Rus' skin, could feel the heat of the flames as they crept into his childhood room.

"Are you going to behave to so you can ha… Jimmy?" He was so lost in the past that he didn't notice the light flick on, or that Frank entered the room again, not until the man spoke.

_… "Stay back, Frank!" _

_"You can't have him!" Frank hissed, getting up to his feet. "He's my son! He'll die before I let you take him!"_

_"The hell he will!" His savior wrapped himself around Jim when Frank charged, tackling and sending the three of them rolling across the floor. _

_Jim screamed in pain, or fear, or both – he didn't know. The officer just grunted and held him as tight and immobile as possible as Frank punched and kicked wildly, his body taking every blow meant for Jim. Jim closed his eyes, tears he hadn't realized were forming fell from beneath the lids, and yet he felt safer than he had in a long time. The man wouldn't let Frank hurt him anymore. _

_An unexpected cry of pain not his own had Jim snapping his eyes open. Frank had retrieved his knife and the blade had plunged to the hilt into the Lieutenant Commander's right shoulder. Even then he didn't release his protective hold on Jim. Frank withdrew the knife and stabbed down again..._

"Jimmy!" There were rapid footsteps approaching him and a second later hands were on his shoulder. "Come on, Jimmy, slow down your breathing. It's just a memory, son, it's can't hurt you. What's done is done, remember?" Fingers ripped the tape from his face without any preamble, the pain drawing him back to the present.

Jim kept his eyes closed, panting freely through burning lips, as the swelling panic kept him as immobile as any restraints could. A once comforting hand stroked his hair away from his face and he fought the rising bile as his mind tried to make him remember. He strained, pressing against the ropes circling his wrists and allowing the pain to keep him grounded even as he felt other memories lurking. "…untie me…" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy." The man's voice sounded honestly contrite.

"Please!" His heart was thundering against his chest and he twisted his wrists again, the ropes tearing into his skin and drawing him away from the past with new pain. "I can't-"

_…The backhand sent him back to the dirt and still he laughed. He stopped when a hypospray was jabbed into the side of his neck. Almost instantly his pulse skyrocketed, and he was gasping for breath. He honestly thought his heart was going to burst when he was lifted onto his knees, his back pressed against Kodos' chest. _

_"You might be feeling a little amped, right now James; a little cocktail of stimulants and adrenaline I cooked up just for you. We're leaving, James, and I'm not about to carry you all the way to our transport."_

_"Almost two kilometers," T.J. growled as he struggled in Kodos' hold, using the false strength he knew would most likely kill him when it faded. "There's gonna be a lot of Starfleet between here and the shipyard, and if you think I'm gonna go quietly-"_

_He hissed and spat as a foul-tasting strip of cloth was cleaved across his mouth. It was pulled viciously tight, his parched lips splitting and blood soaking into the fabric when it was tied in place. It was Kodos' turn to laugh, a chilling sound against his ear that had the fear spiking through him. "Always knew this would be the only way to shut you up, you fucking little shit…_

"Open your eyes, Jimmy." The voice, while rougher with age, broke through the flashback. "Tell me where you are, son?"

"Tarsus…" he gasped without thought.

_… Yanked to his feet, he was forced out of the cell and into the root cellar outside of the settlement that had been converted into Kodo's prison. T.J.'s eyes were wide with the drugs and he caught one last sight of Tommy lying unmoving on the floor of their prison. With a vice-like grip on his upper arm and blaster jabbing painfully into his side, T.J. was dragged up the stairs and into the sun for the first time in days..._

"Open your eyes and tell me where you are, Jimmy."

He felt something tugging at his arms, finger tips burning with pins and needles after hours of numbness. He forced his eyes open. "The farmhouse."

"Good." Frank's voice was behind him. "Can you find me three, Jimmy? How about green? Find me three green things."

He was dizzy, his breath still coming in ragged pants, but he made himself glance around the room. "The paint stain on the wall."

The man chuckled. "I tried to tell your mother that color was a horrible choice. She didn't believe me, or you. Kept that patch there to remind herself that pickle green was not meant for a bedroom."

_… Her smile was warm in his memory as he recalled her laughing. "Okay, fine, you win, we'll go with the Harbour Gray. Boring! It's boring I tell you! Hey, what about Purple?" …_

"Two more, Jimmy."

"The stitching on the duvet." His heart was slowing, the faces drifting back into the recesses of his memories.

"Good. One more, son."

"Don't." Jim shook his head, turning to look over his shoulder at Frank who was using a switchblade to saw through the bloodied ropes around his wrists.

Frank stopped his work momentarily and met Jim's hardening gaze. "One more, Jimmy."

"The Fleet insignia on my duffle." He answered dutifully without looking away from his captor.

Nodding, the man continued cutting away the ropes. "Now, tell me who you aren't."

"Stop it, Frank." Jim pleaded brokenly. "You're not – you don't get to do this."

"Help you?" He gently pulled the ropes away, freeing Jim's hands, but left the rope securing his body and legs to the chair in place. "The flashback was bad, Jimmy. You were hyperventilating. Did you forget everything I taught you?"

Jim groaned with relief as he brought his arm around to his front. His skin was mangled, and his fingers were throbbing in time with his pulse as circulation returned to his hands. "You assault me, tie me up and leave me alone in the dark, and are surprised when I get thrown into a flashback of the last psychopath who did the same?"

The silence around the pair was heavy and thick, and Frank only sighed. He walked over to Jim's open duffel on the floor and riffled through it. "Unless you're willing to tell me a sedative that won't kill you, this is the only alternative."

"How about letting me go?" Jim snarled, calculating his chances of overpowering his former stepfather will still tied to the chair. Slim to none.

Standing with one of Jim's shirts in hand, Frank shook his head. "Even if you wouldn't send the Fleet or cops after me, I've killed two people Jimmy. There's no going back."

Clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap, the painful pins and needles slowly ebbing away, he watched as Frank sliced into the shirt with the switchblade. "Two-"

"Thank you for having the food delivered last night." Frank closed the short distance between him and his captive and crouched next to him. "I hadn't seen Carson in a long time. Shame he saw me as I was moving McNamara into the barn."

His stomach dropped. Jim had forgotten about the delivery he had scheduled with Carson Torres, the owner of the supply shop in town.

"You didn't order medical supplied, which given your state when you got here is surprising, so this will have to do." Frank used the strips of shirt to bandage the rope burns and lesions on Jim's arms. "There's more than enough food here now – I cleared out his delivery truck before driving it, and him and McNamara, into the quarry. You know the one."

"Goddamn, Frank!" Jim hissed as his former stepfather tightened the makeshift bandage, tying off a small knot and tucking the ends into the fabric. "You have to realize this isn't going to go the way you hope it will. As cliché as it sounds, you're not going to get away with this. But if you let me go… You're not well, Frank. I can convince them to let you go back to Elb-"

Without warning, the man's hand snapped out and wrapped around Jim's throat. The hold on his newly bandaged wrist constricted and Frank twisted the limb painfully. Jim's eyes were wide as his breath was cut off and he clawed at Frank's arm with his free hand.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Jimmy?" Frank snarled. "Letting you go is a death sentence. The people I'm doing this for… I tried to be nice, Jimmy; tried to be as gentle as I can because you were my son once but you're making it just so fucking hard!" With one last vicious twist, the muscles in his arm straining and pulling painfully, Frank released his hold on the limb but before Jim could react a heavy fist was being driven into his chest.

Partially healed cracks in his ribs gave way beneath the blow, a resounding snap reverberating through his entire body even as his scream of pain was silenced by the strangle hold on his throat. Tears stung at his eyes and he clenched them shut when Frank's face morphed into a nameless Romulan's and then into the murderous visage of Commander Spock. Futilely he continued to try to pull the hand away from his throat, the fire flaring in his chest as he fought to draw in breath, and in the back of his mind he registered a slash of pain down his side and again at his ankles.

He was suddenly free of the chair, Frank's hand lifting him by the throat and callously throwing him to the floor. Jim inhaled sharply, the air burning through his airway and causing him to cough and gasp. Any air he managed to pull into his lungs was forced out again when a heavy boot collided with his stomach and he rolled with the blow, his body unable to fight back as his mind threw him back into the cause of his nightmares.

The first time the only father he'd ever known had tried to murder him.

_A backhand across his face sent him into the wall. ("They'll make you leave too! Everyone fucking leaves me!")_

_A work boot stomped his back between his shoulders, forcing the air from his lungs when he tried to crawl away from the enraged man. ("Tells me you're not mine; where the fuck has she been while I've done everything!")_

He was eleven years old again, tears stinging his eyes and his pleas for Frank to stop long silenced by blow after blow. Somewhere in his mind he's aware of the man flipping him onto his stomach, of pulling his hands behind his back and binding them there with more strips of torn clothing.

_A blade five inches in length was plunged into his stomach as Frank's heavy fist held him up against the wall by his throat, saliva splattering his face while the man he had called 'Dad' raved. ("Goddamn, worthless, fucking whore!")_

Lost in time, he didn't fight as Frank hauled him out of the room and down the hall. Was barely conscious of the fact he was violently thrown down the stairs and again down into the basement. The dark enveloped him, but the pain brought him momentarily out of his memories.

Hands bound behind his back were useless in his efforts to get off the floor. His body ached in too many places as he managed to get to one knee by the time Frank reached the bottom of the stairs. The man held the roll of gaffer tape in one hand and the switchblade tight in his one fist, the blade exposed and menacing.

_A clump of hair was torn from his scalp as he was dragged toward the basement door. ("I won't let them take you away…")_

_Beaten and bloodied, Jim knew Frank's threat uttered the first time he had drunkenly beaten Sam into a bloody mess had just become a promise. ("… I'll kill you first!")_

"Don't do this, Frank!" Jim felt no shame in begging the deranged man as he stalked toward his captive.

"I'm not going to kill you, Jimmy." Frank snarled as he closed the distance. "But Haeresis and his people are still at least twenty-four hours out. You will behave yourself until they get here or so help me boy, I'll beat your ass black and blue and leave you a bloody mess for them to clean up!"

Jim blanched at the name, his stomach plummeting and he could feel the blood rushing from his face. "Haeresis… Fuck, Frank, what have you done!?"

"What I had to." He snapped the blade back into his handle and tucked the knife into his pocket. When he reached for Jim, the cadet was ready and lashed out.

Shifting his entire weight to his one knee, he kicked out with the other leg, connecting the heel of his foot with the center of Frank's abdomen. The man grunted and staggered back, allowing Jim to use his sudden rush of adrenalin to surge to his feet. "You're fucking insane, Frank! You made a deal with a goddamn pirate!"

The roll of tape had been dropped to the floor and the knife was once again held confidently in the older man's fist. "Watch your mouth, boy!"

Jim took a step back, lifting onto the balls of his feet in preparation of another attack. "What ever they promised you they will never follow through. They will kill you, Frank! It's what they do!"

"And how would you know?" Frank sneered, rubbing at the sore spot in his chest.

"Because I flew with them for two years!" Jim told him bluntly. "I know Haeresis, and Violentia, and Guttur and the rest of Dante's crew. I saw – maybe too late – what they do to people in their way. Why pay you when they can kill you and keep both the money and me?" Heart racing inside his chest, he licked at his dry lips and met the man's eyes. "For what I did to them, what I took from them, they will do to me worse than anything you or anyone else has ever done before. They will hurt me, they will torture me, they will make me suffer pain beyond what you could possibly imagine before they kill me. You have to let me go, Dad. Please!"

Silence fell around them, but Jim could see it in the man's eyes. For all his insanity Frank truly had loved Jim as a son, and nothing would ever change that. Jim never believed Frank had wanted to hurt him. He had been deranged and driven mad by fear and reality no longer had made sense. Frank nodded slowly, lowering the knife to his side, and took a step toward Jim that was no longer menacing.

And then his head was blown off.

Blood, pieces of skull and brain matter, splattered Jim's body and face and he was paralyzed with shock as the headless corpse staggered once, then twice, and collapsed into a boneless heap at Jim's feet. He felt his adrenaline fleeing at the horrific sight and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his stepfather's body. Even as the heavy footsteps descended into the dark, even as the lights flared a moment later and more footfalls echoed on the stairs.

"That was messier than I expected. _Po'tajg, par'Machkai!_"

The fear and panic he had been fighting since he awoke bound and gagged fled, replaced with a resigned terror at the sight of the female that stepped around the body and gore. She was thick, well defined muscles bulging the revealing leather shirt adorning her body. Her skin was dark, nearly ebony black in the light and her brown eyes nearly as dark. Her head was shaved, different than the last time he had seen her, accentuating the cranial ridges that began at her forehead and encompassed her scalp and down her spine.

"_CHEGH-chew jaj-VAM jaj-KAK_, is it not Cupido. Or shall I call you James Tiberius Kirk now?"

He couldn't move, couldn't find his voice as the Klingon female's fist was driven into his face. He felt the bones of his nose and cheek crumble beneath her strike, and he was lifted off his feet only to fall hard onto the floor before her. His world spun, partially aware of the second Klingon female that joined the first as well as a Human and Orion male. Darkness enclosed around him and he welcomed it gladly, praying to any god listening that he never woke.

_"CHEGH-chew jaj-VAM jaj-KAK!" _Her words replayed in his mind as he drifted away from the nightmare playing out in reality.

_Today is a good day to die!_


	4. Part IV

**Part IV **

**Stardate 2258.57**

**Kirk Farmstead, Riverside**

He was barely seventeen – though his hacked ID said he was nearing twenty-one – and going by the name of Russel 'Rus' George when he'd met Dante. He had been working as a mechanic for the Dytallix Mining Company on the fifth planet of the Mira Antilia System. It was a tidally locked planet, which made the perpetual sunrise beautiful the first few weeks but then quite commonplace after he'd been there for four months. He made good money and the other miners left him alone which suited him just fine.

Then Dante and his ship had shown up.

The Hekaran male had been stunning. His olive skin, the dark hair and eyes, he could have passed for an Italian Earth model from the mid-twentieth century. Even the t-shaped cranial ridges of his forehead couldn't distract from his physical beauty and Dante knew it. He used it to his every advantage and drawing Jim to him had been all too easy.

Dante and Limbo, a human male in his early forties, had been the only members of his crew to come down to the planet. They were part of a merchant ship which specialized in rare cargo and antiquities. Jim wasn't naïve and could easily read between the lines. They were smugglers that dealt in stolen and illegal goods. He had no problems with that. They had encountered troubles on their last run and several of their crew were injured, including the ship's engineer, and Limbo's wife, who would be unable to complete the necessary repairs to their ship for some time. Dytallix B had been the closest planet where they might be able to find temporary replacement crew.

Jim had been chomping at the bit for a while, getting antsy at being in one place for as long as he had after more than eighteen months of flitting about the galaxy on a whim. Dante had seen that immediately and knew just what to say and do to woo the teen from the mining company. The promise of adventure and danger and sticking it to Starfleet was more than enough to have Jim walking away from his job and onboard _The Purgatorio._

And into Dante's bed.

The first night on the ship, Dante had escorted Jim to what would be his quarters during his time on _The Purgatorio_. Then the captain had proceeded to strip Jim bare and attempted to fuck his brains out. There was no affection between the two, it had been desire and lust and hard and dirty. While it wasn't Jim's first time with either a man or a woman, it was the first time he'd been taken to the brink and over the edge more times than he could remember in a single encounter. Dante had pleasured him in every way possible and hours later, when neither had the energy to explore their want for the other, he had explained to Jim the names of those onboard. Names Dante had given each of them, and the only names they would know each other by.

_Limbo, Cupido, Guttur, Avaritia, Ira, Haeresis, Violentia, Dolus, Perfidiae._

Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, Treachery.

The Nine Circles of Hell according to the 14th Century Earth Poet Dante.

_Limbo_ was the second in command and had served as such for nearly fifteen years. The two had known each other since childhood and had been inseparable since they ran away from the colony they'd grown up in while still teens. His wife, _Ira_, was a human female more than a decade his junior but a brilliant engineer. The things she taught Jim about engines and warp cores were not things he would have ever learned from a manual.

_Violentia_ was their weapons and tactical expert. A Klingon female that was as deadly as she was beautiful. Her mate, _Avaritia_, was just as exotic but deadlier at hand to hand combat. Both with ebony skin, dark eyes; _Violentia_ had luxurious, long dark curls and _Avaritia's_ head was shaved to show off the cranial ridges that flowed from her foreheads and down her spine. Their relationship was anathema between their clans and when the two females had not ended things, they were both expelled and chased away from Kronos. The two of them basically adopted Jim as their own, taking his knack for fighting and refining it with weapons and fists alike.

_Haeresis_ had been the youngest of the crew before Jim joined. He was a brilliant young Napean medic who at first joined the crew under duress – the empath being abducted four years prior during a heist gone wrong and _Limbo_ had been nearly killed – but found he enjoyed his time with the 'merchants'. He had confided in Jim that the love for the dying man he felt from Dante, even as the Captain had held a blaster to his head and swore if _Limbo_ died so would _Haeresis_, was what had him requesting a chance to stay instead of being released once _Limbo_ had made a full recovery. He had never once regretted his choice.

_The Purgatorio's _communications expert, _Perfidiae_, was from Earth originally. He had been born and raised on the Island nation of Japan but when his parents had been killed in a hurricane when he'd been just a child he'd ended up with his father's cousin. A man who had no love for children and no qualms about talking his ward to the outer edges of the quadrant and selling him to a Romulan Slaver. That was how he met _Dolus_, a former Orion slave who murdered his masters and liberated all their slaves. _Perfidiae_ and he travelled for years together until joining with Dante and the rest of _The Purgatorio_ crew eight years prior.

But it was _Guttur_ that Jim gravitated to, even before he and Dante ended things. The human male was old enough to be his father, but _Guttur_ had never treated him like the child he was. The man had been a pilot in Starfleet once, had served faithfully since he enrolled into the Academy at the age of sixteen. Maybe it had been naïve on his part, but he had wanted to make his older brother proud. The older brother that died alongside Jim's father on the Kelvin. _Guttur_ had been at the academy the same time as George and Winona Kirk, had easily recognized Jim as the couple's son – something he had only admitted on the day Jim left the crew – but respected _The Purgatorio's _ rules and only ever called Jim by the callsign Dante had given him.

_Cupido. _

_Lust._

Jim had lived up to his name. He and _Dante_ fucked, there was never any love involved, every time the desire overcame the Captain. The Hekaran was a hedonistic sociopath that never balked at bending Jim over the navigation console and burying his dick up Jim's ass in full view of the rest of the crew. Or sliding beneath the mess table to give Jim a blowjob at dinner. Or molesting Jim's cock in the middle of a job. Most of the crew just looked the other way.

But not always.

There was the one night, only a few weeks after he had joined the crew, that _Dante_ had held a willing Jim down. _Dante_ had spent the night kissing him and fucking Jim's mouth, all the while _Violentia_ and _Avaritia_ fucked themselves on Jim's dick. Apparently, they had wanted to see what their Captain found so captivating about their newest crew member. It had only been the one time, the two females more than content with each other and in no need of a man to find their pleasure.

On more than one occasion, the nights _Dante_ and _Limbo_ would disappear together, _Ira_ would find her way into Jim's quarters. She never said why she had been there, just told him to strip and would then direct him in how to pleasure her exactly how she wanted at that moment. Sometimes it was soft and slow, other time he barely had time to unzip his pants before she was on him. After the first time, when neither _Dante_ nor _Limbo_ spoke about it even though they had to know about it, he never questioned it. He had known _Dante_ and _Limbo_ were close, had been since they were children. He never questioned their relationship, it wasn't his place and truthfully, he didn't care. So long as they didn't begrudged _Ira_ for what she sought with him, they could do what they wanted.

After several months, _Dante's_ interest in Jim flagged and other than the occasional ambush in the corridors, the Captain kept his distance. Jim truly didn't mind, not when _Guttur_ took the Captain's place in Jim's bed. Except with the older man there was an intimacy that the Captain and Jim had not shared. _Guttur_ was the first to put a name to it, whispering it in Jim's ears after hours of making love with the young man on his eighteenth birthday. It was foreign and frightening, and Jim would never say it back. But it was true and real, and he had been content.

Still, a year later Jim would betray his lover as much as he betrayed _Dante _and the crew of the _Purgatorio._

He had never regretted his decision. He had believed, perhaps naively, that when he joined Starfleet, he would never have to worry about them coming after him. He was lightyears away from their normal territory, protected by the Fleet, and completely wrong in his assumption.

Jim hadn't been unconscious long, a few minutes at most. He'd come to as _Perfidiae_ was initiating a call to the wherever the rest of _Dante's_ crew was waiting. _Violentia_ had relayed the situation to _Limbo_ in the coded language _Perfidiae, Avaritia_ and Jim had created over many drunken nights. It had started as a joke, seeing if the native languages of the crew could be mashed into something no one else could decipher, and then morphed into an amalgamation of nearly a dozen different languages that at least one member of the crew spoke fluently. The result was something that even the most sophisticated translation program couldn't interpret with any real degree of accuracy.

Jim had been carried out of the basement and seated in one of the lounge chairs in the living room. _Dolus_ was standing behind him, a modified disrupted pressed against the point where Jim's neck joined his shoulders. _Avaritia_ sliced through the fabric binding Jim's wrists and began treating his injuries with an emergency med-kit _Violentia_ had handed her.

"_There is no infection in the wounds, Cupido."_ She informed him in the language they had created as she drew a tricorder over his body. "_Though Haeresis with be displeased with the state of your health. Some of these hurts have not been treated adequately."_

"The state of my health is unimportant if I'm just going to be tortured and killed." He spat as venomously as he could muster.

Harsh fingered wrapped themselves into his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to stare up at _Violentia's_ angry features. "**Gotlh San, maghwI'!**" She spat in Klingon, and he flinched when she flung his head forward as if disgusted by just touching him. (_A deserving fate, traitor!)_

"She's not wrong, _Cupido." Perfidiae_ commented in Federation standard with a casual shrug as he watched one Klingon storm out of the farmhouse and the other work silently to treat Jim's injuries with their limited supplies. The older Japanese male motioned to Jim's battered body. "Though I do believe she took great satisfaction killing the one who has done this to you. He had been instructed you were to be in good health when we arrived, and she – other than _Guttur_ – always worried the most whenever you were hurt on a job."

"Your human blood is too red." _Dolus _spoke quietly behind Jim, the weapon still in place against Jim's spine. "When you bleed it offends us."

_Perfidiae_ chuckled and Jim felt the smirk threaten to form on his own lips. It was a comment he had heard many times in his two years aboard the _Purgatorio._ Of the entire crew, the four humans were the most fragile; often the ones to sustain the greater injuries when on a job. As the youngest by more than a decade, the crew had always taken a greater offence when Jim was hurt. Especially when it had been at the hands of someone outside their crew.

Their family.

"_Haeresis_ will have to treat the fractures to his hands and ribs, as well as some of the deeper abrasions, aboard the _Purgatorio_." _Avaritia _told them after a minute of silence. "Bind him; hands in front to reduce the strain to his ribs. He's going to behave, aren't you _Cupido_?"

He pressed his lips together in frustration but held him tongue. The muzzle of _Dolus'_ blaster kept him from fighting as he was guided to his feet while _Perfidiae_ stepped forward and secured Jim's wrists together with a heavy pair of manacles. The cuffs were thick and uncomfortable, but the length of chain between them allowed him some movement.

"_Guttur_ will return in the morning." _Violentia_ came back into the room as Jim was moved the few feet over to the sofa. "We will have a five-minute window to get onboard and into the upper atmosphere before Starfleet sensors pick up the shuttle signature."

"If they haven't already." Jim sat on the edge of the cushion he was guided to, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He appeared calm and casual, but his body was tense, and his eyes watched his former crewmates closely.

"Have you forgotten, _Cupido_?" _Dolus_ smirked. "Our ships hidden from the likes of your Starfleet."

"I'm assuming you're using the scramblers to hide yourselves from the planetary sensors?" He arched his eyebrow mockingly. "The ones Ira and I designed before I left?"

"Before you betrayed us!" _Violentia_ spat at him before taking watch at the room's entrance, glaring at the front door.

"And I'd do it again!" Jim hissed right back, his hands clenching into fists in his bindings. "It was a stupid job that was going to get us all killed! _Dante_ was going to get us all killed so I did what I did to save your miserable fucking lives! You all knew it, but you were too chickenshit to do it yourselves!"

"Fuck you!" _Perfidiae_ took a step forward, his fist drawing back as if to strike the captive cadet.

"**GhaH yap!**" _Avaritia _intercepted the man, her hand gripping _Perfidiae's_ wrist in what had to be a painful hold. "_Dante_ made it very clear he was to be unharmed. That failure thus far has largely not been our doing, but he will not be touched again." _(That's enough!)_

"Really, you should probably just kill me now." Jim was surprised by the leveled tone of his voice, considering the heart pounding inside his chest. "A 'theoretical' case study for my first-year engineering class brought a round of modifications to all Starfleet satellites, starships and shuttles. Your scramblers are useless."

His former friends were very quiet, and he couldn't help the satisfied leer that curled his lips at their poleaxed expressions. "I can't help but wonder if maybe _Dante_ knew that. I mean, it has been almost six years and he had to know I'd take precautions against him coming after me. Whatever revenge he may want doesn't warrant such a risk, does it? I can't help but notice he, _Limbo_ and _Ira_ aren't here taking that chance. Even _Guttur_ didn't stick around, are you certain he's coming back for you?"

Half expecting it, _Avaritia's_ backhand across his face was worse than he anticipated. His already broken nose exploded with pain and his body was propelled to the floor. Still, Jim was chuckling smugly to himself even as he was lifted and tossed unceremoniously onto the sofa. Blood ran down the back of his throat and he coughed and gagged on it until he could twist his body onto its side and spit the blood onto the floor next to the sofa.

Jim looked past _Dolus, _who had picked him up, to the pair of females that stood huddled together at the far end of the room. "Won't be touched again, eh _Ava_? Must have struck a nerve."

"Your mouth still gets you into trouble, _Cupido_." The Orion shook his head as he knelt and examined the damage to Jim's nose. "This? This is not about revenge. Dante understood why you did what you did, laughed it off even though it cost him a lot of money and a loss of reputation. Still, he was never angry with you and I do not believe he even thought of you again until we were approached for a job. You see, to the right people, James T. Kirk is worth a lot of latinum. We're just the lucky ones who get to collect."

"_Dolus,_ enough." _Violentia _barked. The hypospray was pressed against the side of Jim's neck before he was aware that she was there. The sedative was fast acting, and he felt himself succumbing to it quickly. When she spoke to him, her voice was hard and mocking. "Sleep, _Cupido_, your body needs the rest."

**Stardate 2258.58**

**Starfleet Medical, San Francisco**

Being called across the Bay to Medical at the ass-crack of dawn wasn't an unusual occurrence for Leonard. As soon as his status as a fully licensed and practicing physician was learned, Starfleet was more than eager to adjust his Cadet training accordingly to make use of his skills. Even more so when they discovered his surgical prowess. It had broken up the monotony of Academy life, especially that first year when a lot of his basic classes were no different than what he had studied his first year of University.

This time, however, there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. If he were being truthful, it had been there ever since Jim had left. He had already messaged Sulu that he would take the pilot up on his offer to take him out to Riverside later this afternoon. But the feeling he had been trying to ignore for the past couple of days was not any better.

Walking into Medical he was thrown by the presence of dozens of Starfleet Security personnel. His ID was checked, checked again, then triple checked before he was escorted further into the building. He was taken to the conference room in the Administration wing and was further surprised to see Captain Pike in a hoverchair and speaking in low tones with several of the Admiralty when Leonard knew damn well the man shouldn't be out of bed.

"Leonard." He turned to the soft voice that called his name and walked over to Uhura who was standing with several other faces he remembered from the Enterprise. Including Lieutenant Sulu. She was dressed casually, and she gripped his arm when he joined them. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea." He muttered, his stomach twisting with growing anxiety. "Sulu, you know anything?"

The Helmsman shook his head and hooked his thumb at the larger man in a Security uniform. "I was with G.P. at the gym this morning when we both got the summons about thirty minutes ago. We were just told to report here immediately, not why."

"Gideon?" Leonard asked the man who had been the instructor's aide in hand-to-hand Leonard's first year at the academy. An intimidating man that for one reason or another had the unfortunate nickname around campus of 'Cupcake'.

"You'd know more than me, Leo." G.P. Hendorff frowned. "I've heard them say Kirk's name a couple times."

"Think this about why he left?" Sulu whispered, sharing a knowing look with Leonard.

"Kirk left?" Uhura's eyes went wide, as did Hendorff's. "When did that happen?"

"A couple days ago." Leonard admitted regretfully. "But if that was the case, Hikaru, we'd be having this confab at Headquarters, not here."

"It's because I insisted on being involved." Pike's voice cut through the room, drawing everyone's attention to him. Barnett and Marcus were beside him, looking as grim as the Captain himself, but it was Admiral Komack's presence and equally worried expression that had the pit in Leonard's stomach bottoming out.

"You know this, Doctor, but the others don't." Pike continued and moved his hoverchair away from the Admirals. "Mistakes have been made and we're trying to rectify that. Starfleet has been trying to reach out to Cadet Kirk since he left two days ago, but he isn't making it easy. We've been monitoring communications in and out of Riverside since he got there, so we know he hasn't talked to any of you."

"Last night we detected an unknown energy signature entering the atmosphere near the northern pole, but only for a few seconds before we lost it in the lower atmosphere. Less than an hour later, we intercepted this." Marcus set a PADD down on the table and slid it toward the group of young officers and cadets. "Whatever language they're speaking in is complex; our computers and linguists are having a damn time trying to decipher it. The translations they come up with are nothing but gibberish. Commander Spock suggested you listen to it, Cadet."

Uhura picked it up and activated the sound file. Two voices exited the speaker, a man and woman, but they were speaking a language Leonard didn't recognize. He glanced at Uhura when she replayed the brief conversation. She had her head tilted, her eyes closed, and she was mouthing along with a couple of words here and there.

After playing it a third time, she set the pad down and shook her head. "It's not a single language, but a code. It sounds like a mix of eight, maybe even ten different languages – Taiwanese, Latin, English. Some of the words seem to be a compilation of more than one language. I would need to listen to it at least a dozen more times just to narrow down all the languages, and not all of them are Earth-based. The few words I could translate were 'ship', 'Captain', 'lust', 'violence', 'deceased."

"Lust?" Komack quirked an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Yes, 'lust'." The communications cadet defended. "It was definitely Latin, _Cupido_, but without context it could have a half dozen other meanings. It could even be somebody's name in a language I haven't identified."

"That's more than anyone else has been able to give us." Barnett admitted. "I would like you to continue trying to decipher what they're saying, Cadet."

"Yes, Sir." Uhura snapped out automatically, picking up the device and moving a few feet away from the others. She started playing the recording on a loop, the volume quieted and relegated to background noise for the rest inside the room.

"We know the male voice is not Kirk's." Komack leaned forward, his hands flat on the table surface and propping himself up. "And we know it was answered from somewhere in the Sol system. Where exactly, we haven't narrowed that down, but with everything that's happened recently you can imagine we're being more cautious until the Fleet returns. With something this encrypted, this complex, originating from where a known disenfranchised member of Starfleet-"

"Now hang on a goddamn minute!" Leonard snarled, glaring at the rotund Admiral without concern for protocol. "You can't still be hung up on the insane crusade of yours to convict Jim on you're goddamn trumped up sedition charges!?"

"Seriously?" Hendorff hissed at Sulu in astonishment, the expression the pilot wore revealing that this was not news to him. The helmsman nodded once, an angry scowl of his own directed at Komack.

"No." Marcus told them definitively, stepping forward and glowering at his fellow Admiral. "There are some who disagree, but those of us with half a brain do not doubt Kirk's loyalty and commitment to Starfleet and the Federation. We are, however, concerned about his lack of communication with anyone in the last forty-eight hours."

Pike spared a quick look for Barnett who responded with a brief nod. "McCoy is aware of this, and it's highly classified, but Kirk has been targeted before. Dozens of times before, since the day he was born."

"We've done our damnedest to keep him safe." Barnett injected. "But not always with great success."

"Terra Prime nearly killed him two years ago." McCoy felt a chill run up his spine with the memory of seeing his friend convulsing from an accidental overdose and the shock of it sending Jim into cardiac arrest.

"Goddamn!" Hendorff's eyes were wide, and Sulu shared the same horrified expression though managed to hold his tongue.

"You think the transmission is Terra Prime?" Leonard's hands fisted at his side.

"We wouldn't put it past them to use the current situation to make a play for Cadet Kirk." Marcus admitted. "We know of at least three times they got close to Kirk in Riverside, more that we stopped before they got too far beyond the planning stage. That we can't reach Kirk is worrisome and we want to send a team to bring Kirk back to San Francisco."

"Lieutenants Sulu and Hendorff, while not as close to Cadet Kirk as Doctor McCoy, he knows you both." Barnett instructed. "Along with the Doctor and a handful of other security personnel, you with be leaving for Iowa in two hours."

"And if that transmission has nothing to do with Captain Kirk?" Hendorff asked, though Leonard didn't think the man noticed the slip of the tongue. "If he doesn't want to come back?"

"McCoy, it's your job to convince him its in his best interest to come back to the Academy." Pike told him, and he nodded.

"There's someone else!" Uhura suddenly exclaimed breathlessly. All eyes turned to her and there was no denying the element of fear that shone in her dark eyes. "Behind the two main voices, just for a second at the very end before the transmission cuts off, there is a third. Faint, and from a distance, but I should be able to isolate it." She pressed the screen a couple times, making the necessary adjustments before increased the volume on the PADD as high as it could go.

_"__-tant if I'm just going to be tortu-"_

Leonard didn't need the computer to confirm it. That was Jim's voice, angry and defiant. And scared. He didn't think anyone else, except maybe Pike, could hear the fear underlying his words. But it was there, each word thick with it in a way he hadn't heard in over a year. He looked over at the Captain and shared a worried look. "That's Jim's voice."

"Did he say he was going to be tortured?" G.P. snarled, his hands balling into white-knuckled fists.

"That's never been Terra Prime's M.O." Barnett frowned.

"No! No, it's not Terra Prime!" Uhura shook her head. "Terra Prime is about purifying the Earth, eliminating the alien influences. I was right, this code they're speaking in does not contain just Earth-based languages. There's at least Hekaran, Orion…" She hesitated and met Leonard's eyes and he suddenly shared her growing fear. "… and Klingon!"

"Which voice?" Marcus snapped; his face twisted into a demanding snarl.

"Both." Uhura responded instantly. "The language has been integrated into the code; several words bastardized but undoubtedly Klingon. Now that I know what I'm listening for, however, I can hear a definitive Klingon accent in the Female's voice. The pre-nasalized oral stops are common in the Tak'ev dialect."

"The female initiated the communication." Komack turned to his fellow Admirals. "Which originated on the planet's surface within a hundred kilometers of the Riverside Shipyards."

"You're saying there is at least one Klingon on Earth?" Sulu asked with undisguised horror.

"Worse." Pike's voice was taught, his body tense in his hoverchair. "Not only is there a Klingon on Earth, but she's with Jim: the man who defeated the Romulan that destroyed forty-seven Klingon Warbirds only two weeks ago."

Marcus was barking orders into a communicator even as Barnett turned to McCoy and the others. "Forget two hours, get yourself over to the hangars. You're airborne in fifteen minutes."


End file.
